The Lost Princess
by kittykatloren
Summary: Eliwood's illegitimate daughter with Fiora grows up as a simple Ilian mercenary's girl. Eliwood is forced to marry a Lycian noblewoman, and she bears him Roy. But what happens when Roy dies in the war against Bern? FE7/6 original story, ON HIATUS
1. I

**A/N:** Originally written for the big challenge at fe_contest on LJ: Mary-Sue characters! It was a lot of fun to write in this slightly overdramatic style... But as this story went on, I kinda felt like making it something real. Ish. Probably something corny attempting to be real. But whatever. Make of this whatever you will! There are other long chapters to come, but I don't know if it'll ever be fully finished. Let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognize belongs to Nintendo, not me.

* * *

><p>"What? My lord – Eliwood – no…"<p>

The anguish in her tone was nigh unbearable. Eliwood of Pherae glanced shamefully away; he could not bear to see such sadness in her eyes. "Fiora, I am so sorry. The noble council…. They will not stand for it. I have been commanded to marry Lady Lila of Thria. They do not understand… You command a far nobler spirit than she can ever dream of possessing."

She only stared, uncomprehending. In the moonlight, her tears shone silver on her cheeks. "You promised, Lord Eliwood… You promised you would never leave me alone. You can't!"

"It's not up to me! Do you think I did not fight them? Do you think this is what I want? Fiora… I would give up anything… anything in the world - "

" - except your duty," said Fiora. "You would give up anything, except your duty to the people as Marquess Pherae."

There was long pause, the nighttime air thick and painful between them. He longed for nothing more than to reach out to her face, brush the tears away, feel the soft touch of her lips. And yet he could not. Not now, not while he was betrothed to another. "Yes, Fiora," he said. "Except that. I cannot abandon them."

"You chose to abandon me instead."

"Fiora…"

She tried to give a wan, tired smile, but it didn't last. Her feigned acceptance crumpled, along with her body; she fell to her knees, and instinctively Eliwood leapt forward to catch her. She felt the same as she always had; her waist fitting perfectly into the curve of his arms, her hands fisted against his chest, her face buried in his shoulder. Only this time, her tears traced from her cheeks to his skin, warm and sharp in his consciousness.

He could not resist any longer. He lifted her face and tangled his fingers in her hair, supporting her trembling body, kissed the tears from her face. Inevitably, miraculously, their lips met, salty with shared tears. They clung desperately to each other until neither could stand. Curled on the dusty ground, fingers entwined, they lay in their hidden haven, an unknown corner of Pherae's palace rose gardens.

"I love you, Fiora," Eliwood murmured. He slipped a ceremonial ring – one of House Pherae's greatest treasures – into her palm, and curled her fingers around it. The emblem of a gem-studded flower pressed a pattern into her skin. "Always, always, you will remain in my heart."

She squeezed his hand. The last of her tears dried from her eyes. "I will miss you, my lord Eliwood. I will miss you."

She left without looking back. But in the sky on her beloved pegasus, she pressed a hand to her stomach and closed her eyes, feeling her way through the night with nothing but her mind.

"I love you."

* * *

><p>Lady Lila was not a foul woman. She was modestly pretty, with bright blond hair that tangled in waves to her shoulders. She was short and slender, barely even a woman, but her eyes glimmered with quiet intelligence. She blushed charmingly when they were first introduced, and spoke softly, shyly. A proper lady. Eliwood kissed her hand without emotion, but forced a smile, and saw the blush in her cheeks darken.<p>

But she was no Fiora.

Her tastes were refined and elegant; she liked to walk in gardens and have her feet washed and her hair combed by her maids. She was very kind to them, of course, but they were always and undoubtedly her servants. She gasped in awe when she watched Eliwood and Marcus spar, trembling at the sight of his blood when Marcus's sword merely nicked Eliwood's arm.

"Oh, my lord Eliwood," she said. "Oh, please, let me fetch you medicine - "

"No," he growled fiercely as he tossed his sword to Marcus and wiped the sweat from his face – with his bleeding arm. Lady Lila gasped and swayed on her feet, her face pale. Eliwood, guilty at the fright he had given her, hurried to steady her.

"I apologize, Lady Lila," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you. But this is nothing. Nothing compared to what I experienced in the war."

Her eyes grew wide. They were shockingly blue – and very similar to Fiora's, he noticed, though primarily in color rather than shape. A sudden memory flashed through his mind – a deep gash in Fiora's arm, her blood coating Eliwood's trembling hands as he attempted to wrap it. Then there was the time when he had been cut so many times, shallowly in the chest, that his clothes turned almost entirely red with his own blood, each tiny slash leaving its own dark stain.

"Nothing can ever compare to what I experienced in the war."

He walked straight past Lady Lila, their shoulders brushing, but Eliwood didn't look back. He didn't want to see her confused, terrified, innocent, beautiful face. Not when thoughts of Fiora, only Fiora, filled his head.

* * *

><p>The night of his wedding arrived in unfortunate haste. Lady Lila stood in their newly shared bedroom, clad in a silken, sheer nightdress, her cheeks flushed red like a rose. Eliwood gazed coolly over her body as she tried to speak and few coherent words emerged.<p>

"M-my lord…"

He couldn't bear to hear her sweet voice, so full of both fear and hope, racking him with guilt that he could not give her the kind and gentle love that her youthful fantasies had once imagined would fill this night. It was as if he was – or would become – the cause of all her unhappiness.

For he could never love her, despite all her charm and determination to please, even though she had done nothing wrong. She was no different than him. She simply did as her duty commanded, and it commanded her to stand here, in this room full of as little love as a brothel. Though abundant with gold and blankets and luxury, the room did not even begin to compare to the bare, chilly tent, surrounded by prickly island roses and the sound of waves crashing steadily against the shore, where he had once held Fiora in his arms and felt as he never would again - whole and complete and enthralled.

He extended his hand to Lady Lila. She took it with trembling, hesitant fingers. Eliwood pulled her close, feeling every curve of her flawless, unscarred body beneath her thin gown. With calm insistence, he traced his hands over her shoulders, her waist, her hips. Then he reached to the back, where the silken dress was tied in loose, elegant knots, and worked silently at them till the fabric fell away and lay in clean pool at her feet.

Lady Lila gave a little gasp as she stood so vulnerable in front of him. He almost thought he saw tears glittering in her eyes. She knew that there was no love in his touch.

"Come," said Lord Eliwood, staring at the floor, taking his wife by the hand and leading her to their shared bed.

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><p><em>Lord Eliwood,<em>

_I write this to you in the confidence that I will never see your face again, and therefore can communicate this to you in no other way but by letter. I would have told you in my own voice, but I could not bear to when last I saw you, and I know now that I never will again._

_I have heard of the birth of your son, Roy, with great happiness for you and your wife. I am sure he will bring great joy to your family, and with a father such as you, I know he will grow into a great hero, someone to be honored and loved. No child of yours could be anything less. This I know for certain._

_When I last saw you in the gardens of Pherae, I was carrying your child. She is grown to almost three years of age now, and she is so like you in many respects. She has your eyes, your compassion, and your strength. I have not told her, and nor do I plan to tell her, of your identity. But I could not bear the idea of her father never even knowing of her, never thinking of her, and so I decided it was time for me to send you this letter._

_I do not want you to see her. I do not want to put her – or myself - through such confusion. I do not want your money or charity or recognition. We live comfortably, if frugally, on our own, and we are happy. I love her more than anything in the world. More even than I loved you. _

_I have taught her to ride a pegasus, like a true Ilian warrior, and she seems to have the spirit of magic within her as well. Perhaps she may learn to heal. Her name is Rose. She doesn't get to see such flowers in Ilia, but I've shown her pictures. She was conceived amongst them, and I thought it fitting for her story. Born of love, rent apart by thorns of duty._

_I do not expect nor desire a response to this letter. I still hold you in my heart always, but I have moved on, and I do not want to revisit a past that can never be. I only wanted to tell you of your daughter, so perhaps kind thoughts of her will cross your mind. Perhaps someday, Roy may meet his older sister; time alone can tell. But not now. _

_Your daughter's mother,_

_Fiora._

* * *

><p>Little Roy glowed with delight at the item in his father's hands. It was only a light wooden sword, a practice weapon, but that meant the world to a five-year-old boy.<p>

"It's for me? Really, Father? My own sword?"

"Someday, when you are older, I will give you a real one. One of my own. But for now, you will learn with this," said Eliwood, his heart warmed by his son's happiness. "Come, Roy! Show me what you can do. Spar with me!"

"Yes, Father!"

Roy charged at Eliwood, nearly tripping over his own two feet. Eliwood laughed as he let his son land a few strikes, stopping him only once he began to feel bruises forming on his legs. As he parried the boy's blows lightly with a wooden sword of his own, Eliwood saw Lila emerge at the edge of the courtyard, leaning against a marble pillar and watching her husband and child with a small smile on her face. When they reached a stopping point in their training – that is, when Roy was sweating and panting and still trying valiantly to attack but so tired that he nearly dropped the weapon – Eliwood held up a hand and motioned the boy to his mother.

"I think your mother wants you, Roy," said Eliwood. "Be careful with your sword, now."

"Yes, Father!" gasped Roy. He hefted his sword with both hands and scurried to Lila, who knelt and kissed him on the forehead.

"Did you enjoy training with your new sword?" she asked. Roy nodded vigorously, and Lila laughed and ruffled his hair affectionately. "But it's time for you to meet your tutor. Go clean up, fast as you can. I'll be with you in a moment."

When Roy left, Eliwood walked over to Lila, who looked suddenly nervous. Her soft eyes followed Roy's heels until they whipped out of sight, and then she sighed, staring down at the ground.

"Is something the matter?" asked Eliwood. He placed a gentle hand on her belly.

Still without looking at him, she pushed his hand away, and hugged her arms around herself instead. "I – I was mistaken," she said at last. "I… I am not with child. I am so sorry – I think – I fear I am barren."

For a moment, he was speechless. Just a fortnight ago, she had whispered in his ear that she had missed her time; she had to be with child again. Just that single whisper had brought into Eliwood's mind all the most joyous memories of the last few years, from the first time he held his son, to teaching him sounds and words and letters, to training him in the ways and manners of honor.

Beside him, Lila was still talking, her voice trembling more and more as Eliwood didn't speak. "I am so sorry, my lord Eliwood, truly, I thought… I hoped… I so wanted it to be true. I am young, and my mother had many children – I should be able to bear you another child, another heir, as is the duty of a noblewoman, and I – I have failed - "

"No," said Eliwood at last. She silenced at once, and looked at him with tear-filled eyes. Eliwood could not help but take her hand kindly. "Lila, you have not failed anything. You are not merely a means to end; you are not here only to bear me children. You are my wife and the marchioness of Pherae. We have Roy, do we not? A strong, healthy, intelligent boy; he alone is my heir. We need no other."

She sniffed sadly. "Truly? You mean that?"

"Truly."

"My whole life… I was raised to believe that it was a noblewoman's duty to give her husband children," she said, and her gaze looked a strange mix of haunted and glittering. "I grew up with three sisters and two brothers. I am the youngest. All my sisters were married already, two with children, and I… I was told, again and again, that as your wife, I must do anything and everything to give you security in your lineage, for that and that alone is a noblewoman's place."

Suddenly, an image of Lyn flashed through Eliwood's mind. Whether as Lady Lyndis of Caelin, Lyn of the Lorca, or the marchioness of Ostia, it didn't matter; Eliwood nearly laughed out loud imagining Lyn's expression at the words Lila was speaking, the life she had led. "I know a woman from the war – a noblewoman like yourself – who would draw her sword and run through anyone who disparaged a woman's place in the world. She even married the Marquess of Ostia, but she lets no one but herself dictate her purpose and her place."

Lila's eyes widened, but she still looked pale, small, and sad. Gently Eliwood touched her cheek and frowned. "Are you unwell? Please, do not worry yourself any longer, Lila. We have Roy, and he is a handful enough on his own, isn't he? Call a physician and rest for the day."

"Thank you, my lord Eliwood," she said, bobbing her head. She looked forlornly at the path Roy had taken, her face turned away from her husband's. "It only saddens me that Roy will never know what it's like to have a brother or a sister. I don't know what I would have done without my siblings. I can't imagine a life without them."

With a great sigh, she followed her son, and Eliwood was glad that she did not happen to look back. His mind was gone from the time and place. Instead, he saw in front of him a single, treasured letter, the carefully inked words bleeding and staining into a tattoo in his thoughts.

_Perhaps someday, Roy may meet his older sister._


	2. II

A lone girl wandered along the riverbank, touching the thin grass with her bare hands, reveling in the feel of the sun on her face. Though as always in Ilia, the air was brisk and breezy, at least in the summer there was a longer day, a longer time for the surrounding nature to glow with welcome and hospitality. Most of the snow disappeared, too; the rivers were full to bursting with meltwater.

Tucking her straight, shoulder-length auburn hair behind her ears, Rose sat on the edge of the creek, pulled off her boots, and dipped her toes into the water. She studied her reflection in the water with a curious tilt. She had darker skin than most of the fair, winter-worn Ilians, though not by much. Her eyes, too, were different. They were a lighter blue than her mother's and of a narrower, more almond-like shape, rather than the wide, dark clarity of Fiora's. She squinted at herself and wondered – not for the first time – what her father had looked like, to give her such an appearance.

But at the moment, her favorite part of her appearance was the white headband her mother had given her, just two nights ago, the very one she had worn in the legendary war. "Because you, my Rose, are as true an Ilian knight as anyone I know," she had said, with a kiss to her daughter's forehead. Rose was only fourteen, and not _really_ a true knight yet, but she appreciated her mother's kindness and confidence.

_Perhaps I'll be able to fight in the coming war,_ she thought excitedly. _Or at least work as a cleric! I can tell something's coming. Maybe in a few years, but something's happening, I just know it._

Rose slipped her hand into her pocket and clutched her lucky charm. It was a ring her mother had given her years ago, set with a rose shaped like a stone. It was still too big for her fingers, but she kept it with her always; she'd been told it was a keepsake of her father's, and it was all she had of him. As a girl, romantic notions had filled her head that this was the ring with which her father had proposed to her mother, sweetly and kindly and with every intention of making her his bride… but something would always go wrong as the story played out in her head, and then she would shake her fiercely to bring herself back to reality, where she had no father.

"Rose? Rose, are you out wandering again?"

Rose leapt to her feet at the stern voice behind her. "Oh! Aunt Farina! I'm sorry, did you need me?"

Her aunt, a kind but vociferous woman, was an intimidating sight indeed as she towered over Rose's slight form. Farina was not big by any means, but with such a determined twinkle in her eye as she had now, she could have made even the most hardened of pirates cower.

"Alright, Rose," said Farina. "You still want to be an Ilian mercenary, right? Well, it's time for you to learn what it's really all about. It's not about glory or honor or strength, in the end. It's about money, my dear. You and Thany both need to get that through your thick skulls as soon as possible. At least Tate's gone off to work for a _prince_, you know – _she's_ got the right idea, at least."

"But – but, Aunt Farina - "

"No buts!" Farina seized Rose's sleeve and began to drag her away from the river. With a sigh, Rose complied. Farina wasn't famous among the Ilian mercenaries for nothing, she supposed. And Rose was determined – she would prove herself worthy enough to fight in whatever it was that was coming, no matter what it took. Any lesson she could find was valuable.

* * *

><p>A crash shook the foundation of Caste Pherae. Windows shattered and stone carvings toppled off their previously steady stands. People were screaming, the sound echoing deafeningly through trembling corridors, and the sound of battle and screaming soldiers tore through the mix when a nearby wall collapsed to reveal the battle outside.<p>

Eliwood scrambled through the rubble, bloody sword in hand, pain lancing through his limbs with every step. Roy, his son – where was Roy? Where was Lila, sick and helpless, and now with her home falling around her too? He saw only their faces as he charged through his collapsing castle.

It was Bern that was invading. It had to Bern's King Zephiel, the boy whose life Eliwood had saved when the king was Roy's age. Roy was so _young_. Eliwood had fought in the war precisely so that his children would not have to suffer something like this, and yet, now, his home was being destroyed, his family torn apart. The time that Lord Athos had mentioned had come at last.

And Roy was a child of Lycia. He _was_ just a child, really, hardly fifteen years old, and yet now was the moment that his destiny would be thrust upon him, whether he was ready for it or not.

Eliwood ran past the rose garden, every plant white with mortar dust; he ran past the training grounds, full now of soldiers fighting to the death instead of in jest; he ran until he reached his quarters where Lila should have been sleeping, a healer constantly by her side. The grand door was already open. Eliwood burst through it, skidding on tracks of blood.

The sheer curtains that veiled the bed had been ripped aside and thrown unceremoniously to the floor. The healer, an initiate who couldn't have been more than fourteen, lay dead at the foot of the bed, her throat cut, her white robes spattered with vicious red. They had even been torn at the waist, exposing her skinny legs; her thighs were black and blue with bruises. Her name had been Karen, Eliwood thought. He remembered because she was about the same age as Roy and a friend of his, a bright and pretty girl. Now she looked like nothing more than a broken, discarded doll, painted with dark pain.

Eliwood's heart froze when he looked upon the bed. The white, silken sheet had been tossed carelessly over the shape of a person, a woman. _Lila._

Eliwood tore the sheet away. Lila's eyes – wide and blue, no longer so innocent as they once were, no longer so naïve – stared back at him, full of tears, and though they were dull with her sickness, she was very much alive. She coughed feebly, and her whole body trembled.

"Lila," Eliwood gasped, falling to his knees. "You – you're alive – how are you still alive?"

"It was little Karen," Lila breathed. "She was so smart… she put the sheets over my face, and told them I was dead… Oh, Eliwood, I heard her screaming – I heard them – there were so many - "

Lila looked almost like a skeleton, her cheeks sunken and pale, her limbs thin, so thin. She smelled of a feverish, cold sweat and bitter medicine. If she had lain still, it would have been all too easy for the men to believe her dead, distracted as they were by a young and defenseless girl.

Vainly Eliwood tried to brush the tears from Lila's cheeks. As he touched her, her hand moved slowly to rest upon his fingers; she had no strength to do more.

"Eliwood… my lord… please tell Roy how much I love him," she said desperately. "Please… tell him…"

"He knows," said Eliwood. A chill swept over his exhausted body at her helpless, hopeless words. "Lila, do not worry, he knows."

"And… my lord…"

"Yes?"

"I hope you find her," she said, with the ghost of a sad smile on her face. "Whoever she was… the girl you loved before… I hope you find her."

The chill turned into a petrifying cold. He had never felt more powerless, more lonely, more desperate. "Lila…"

"Eliwood… will you say that you love me?" Lila said, closing her eyes. "Even if my mind knows it is a lie… in my heart, perhaps, for just a few moments, I can feel as if it were true. Just once…"

Her breathing was coming in ragged gasps; her skin under his hand had lost its feverous flush and instead felt deathly cold. It was all Eliwood could do to close his eyes, hold her hand, and whisper those most cherished words, his heart helpless and broken.

"I love you, Lila," he said.

He heard her sigh, deep and long. When at last he opened his eyes again, her body was still, her face a mask of poignant tranquility. Gently Eliwood kissed her forehead, and rose unsteadily to his feet, his tears very much run dry.

He stumbled to the chest in the corner. Dark wood that once gleamed in its perfect maintenance now glimmered dully under a layer of white dust. Eliwood searched for the key that he kept with him at all times, sewn into a corner of his cloak. He inserted it into the lock, opened the chest, and ruffled through his belongings until he found a small, old black book, one loose sheet of paper sticking out from between its pages. Gently he removed the extra paper, and then flipped through the rest of the pages. Two pressed roses fell into his hand, one pink and one red. All around him, the castle gave another great rumble; the stones above his head scraping in protest, and he was showered with more fine white dust.

Without hesitation, Eliwood tucked the red rose inside the paper and the paper inside his armor, right above his heart. Then he stood and returned to Lila's side, and he placed the pink rose on her faint cheek. It seemed to lessen the pallor of her death.

But he had no more time for grief, no more time for regret, no more time for reflection. He whipped around and traced back the way he had come till he reached the heart of the battle once more. Bern's soldiers had pushed the fighting from the surrounding grounds to the wide entrance hallways, and blood now overwhelmed the white marble palace just as enemies overwhelmed the Pheraen guard.

Marcus, grizzled and strong, was fighting side-by-side with Roy. It was too much to hope, Eliwood realized, that his proud son would stay safely out of the fray. The gulf between them, a whole hallway's length, was thick with the clatter of weapons and hot with the wealth of tired bodies. Two Pheraen men recognized their lord and rushed to Eliwood's side. One of them had a shock of green hair – Roy's friend, Lance.

"My lord!" Lance said. His sword arm was soaked in blood, but steady; it wasn't his own. His young eyes were wide. "Please, you must flee! Sir Marcus has been trying to find you – you and Master Roy will be removed to Ostia - "

"Behind you!" Eliwood shouted.

It was too late. A spearhead protruded from the knight's stomach, and he looked down at it in shock, then back at his lord with desperate eyes. Eliwood couldn't say a word. Blood poured over Eliwood's feet as Lance crumpled to the ground, but he had no time to raise his sword against the offender; he felt himself being dragged away to the side of the hall, nearly slipping over blood and sparkling shards of broken glass.

The knight who had been with Lance was the one pulling on his arm. Eliwood noticed that his eyes were filled with tears, but his expression was set. "My lord, through here," he said.

"What?"

"The window," the knight said. "I'll help you. Climb through here and meet Sir Marcus and Master Roy by the hidden passageway – do you know where it is?"

"I know," said Eliwood. "But – Marcus and Roy - "

He glanced over his shoulder to where he had seen them fighting what felt like mere seconds ago. Mere seconds in which a knight, a friend, had been killed. Marcus and Roy were no longer visible, and terror numbed his whole consciousness, far more powerful than anything he had ever felt before.

"They're already out," the knight said. "Go, my lord!"

Eliwood didn't hesitate again. He scrambled through the broken window, the stained glass slicing into his palm, but he didn't stop to check the injury. He whipped around the corner of the castle, the passway out of the garden just ahead, hidden by a fountain and ornamental trees – he was so close; he could hear his son's voice –

And he felt the kiss of cold metal against his neck. With a tiny twist, the metal plucked into his skin and drew a few careful drops of blood.

"It's been a long time," the owner of the blade said, shrewd eyes glinting from under an assassin's cape. The voice sounded so familiar.

"You," Eliwood breathed. "I know you. Years ago – in the war - "

"I'm surprised you remember," the main said casually. "Sorry to cut our reunion so short. It's a pity. But there's not much time for niceties, is there? Part of the job, you know."

With shocking speed for one so securely in middle age, the former assassin ducked and threw his body forward, under Eliwood's sword arm and towards a space in Eliwood's light armor. He felt the dagger pierce his flesh as if a dragon's claw had torn into his gut. The shock jerked the air from his lungs. The small blade twisted once inside of him before it was drawn away, and Eliwood felt every nerve burn as the metal slashed through him. Yet even as he stumbled on his feet, as he clutched his helpless hands to the wound, he knew it wasn't fatal; his heart was still beating too powerfully. But he could also feel the sheer amount of blood pouring through his fingers; death could not be long distant. His gaze fuzzy with the pain, Eliwood slipped over his dropped blade and his own blood.

"Sorry, old friend," Legault said, pushing the hood from his face at last. His lavender hair was streaked with gray now, his sharp features weathered and hollow. In his eyes there was a spark of real regret. He flipped his dagger in his deft fingers.

"No!" roared another familiar voice.

A knight in Pheraen colors charged Legault and crushed him to the floor. But it was not the knight's skill that caused the rogue to falter. Rather, shock seemed Legault's greatest opponent, stark on his face as he fell. A familiar face – a woman's face – shone with furious tears as she pinned Legault to the ground and shouted at her lord to flee.

"I'll take care of him, Lord Eliwood," said Isadora. "Go, find Sir Marcus and Master Roy! Get out of here!"

He didn't need to be told twice. Stumbling backwards, still clutching his bleeding side, he finally traced a painful path to the side garden. Three figures awaited him there.

"Lord Eliwood!" the aging Sir Marcus exclaimed just as Roy shouted, "Father!"

The third man there, the knight who had told Eliwood where to go and who Eliwood suddenly remembered was called Alan, rushed to catch Eliwood before his legs gave out. Roy and Marcus were beside him in moments. Eliwood's tired eyes alighted and fixed on the terrified face of his son. Roy still had the roundish cheeks of a child, but his eyes were sharp and clear. With the last of his strength, Eliwood reached under his mail and pulled out the carefully folded parchment encasing the dried red rose. He forced it into his son's trembling hand.

"Your mother is dead," Eliwood breathed. Despair flashed across Roy's features. "Do not grieve so, my son. It was the illness, not the enemy's blades, that took her life. She… there is nothing you can do for her now. You must leave here, with these two, and no one else – do not wait for me to die. Go now."

"No, Father," Roy cried. "Not without you! I can't!"

Eliwood closed his eyes lest the sight of his son in such distress tempt him to ask Roy to stay until his final moments, so he could selfishly hold his son for what little time they had left together, even at the risk of Roy's safety. It could not be done. "Keep that letter close to your heart," he said. He could feel the life leaving him with the blood that poured onto the grass. "Keep it until you find the one with a Pheraen ring, the rose ring, my ring…"

Out of the corner of his fading vision, he saw Marcus's eyes widen. Roy still looked bewildered.

"No, Father! You can't leave! Please, please - "

"Go!" Eliwood roared with all his might.

Marcus gripped Eliwood's shoulder, his eyes shining. Then he took Roy forcibly by the hand. "Master Roy, please - "

"No! Father! Father!"

But it was no use. Marcus was stronger, and acting under his liege's orders. Despite the pain across his features as he did so, he pulled Roy away, nodded to Alan, and with a final, sad, faithful glance at his dying lord, Marcus disappeared under a veil of dark ivy which Eliwood knew hid a doorway and a tunnel. Pherae was built, not like Ostia with its impenetrable walls as its sole and very effective defense, but rather more cleverly, utilizing subtlety rather than power.

Eliwood thought of his father. Despite his sufferings, at this moment he envied his father's manner of death. Lord Elbert had died in the arms of his son, with Hector and Lyndis by their side too, people who cared about him and fought for him. He died with his beloved wife's name on his lips. And then Eliwood thought of Lila, and the pain she had suffered; but he had already made his peace with her.

Fiora's face danced in front of his delirious, dying eyes, the face that still haunted his twilight hours, preserved perfectly in his memory, unchanging through time. He saw her clear blue eyes sparkling at him. Words swam in front of his eyes, too, words from a letter he had memorized long ago. _Her name is Rose._ Though he had never seen her, he tried to picture his daughter, imagined her meeting Roy, standing beside her little brother.

It was with that image in his mind's eye that he died. Pherae castle shook and shuddered around him. Rock cascaded into the gardens. The Marquess of Pherae died alone, but those few remaining Pheraen knights who found his body before the invading Bern soldiers noticed a last look of hope, frozen upon his tired face.


	3. III

**A/N:** This story will probably be on hiatus after this chapter... quite, quite busy. But hopefully I'll get around to finishing it!

* * *

><p>"Rose! Rosie, wake up!"<p>

Distantly Rose registered her cousin's voice. Thany sounded frantic, and though she _was_ easily excitable, it wasn't usual for her to imply such a sense of urgency.

"I'm coming, I'm coming – what is it, anyway, why are you so worked up?"

"Aunt Fiora just told me to come and get you, real quick - "

"My mother always wants something," Rose sighed, but she rubbed her eyes and scrambled out of her shoddy straw bed, quickly wrapped a fur cloak around her shivering shoulders. Thany grabbed her hand, and together they stumbled through snow to the pegasi stables. Rose's mother and Thany's mother, Rose's Aunt Farina, were already there, saddling their mounts. Fiora ran to her daughter as soon as she entered.

"We have to leave," she said. She was speaking very fast. "Rose, I'm sorry – there isn't much time to explain – saddle up and grab a spear. It's time. Both of you are fully qualified Ilian pegasus knights - "

"But we haven't done our traveling with other mercenary groups!" Thany said.

"That doesn't matter," Fiora said shortly. "That's more a tradition rather than a requirement. What we're doing will be similar enough. Why are you just standing there? Get moving, you two! I'll explain on the way!"

Sharing a frightened glance, Rose and Thany did as they were told. Rose's pegasus was a beautiful creature, but at the moment, he was as jittery and anxious as Rose was herself. She tried desperately to calm him, rubbing his snow white nose and whispering calming words into his ear. He tossed his head a little and flattened his feathery wings, but finally, he relaxed, allowing Rose to saddle him. "There you are, Roland," she said, smiling. Why she had felt the name of Lycia's hero would be a good one for her pegasus, Rose never quite knew; but since her earliest history lessons, she had always liked the way the name rolled off her tongue.

"Ready?" Aunt Farina asked, looking at Thany and Rose, who both nodded. "Let's go, then."

As soon as they were above the clouds, Rose shivering with the damp chill, Fiora began to explain the situation. Thany and Rose gasped when she told them that Bern had attacked Lycia without warning, and the two countries were now preparing for a full-out war. Pherae was the first place they attacked. Fiora's voice trembled at little as she spoke. Both sides had requested Ilian mercenary assistance, but according to rumor, Bern was doing so without much consideration for the wishes of the mercenaries themselves. Apparently, they would not take no for an answer; they would rape and kill wherever the Ilian knights denied them assistance, and Fiora had discovered Bern soldiers nearing their mountain home. She had decided that their safest course of action was to flee to Etruria.

"Etruria?" asked Rose. "Why Etruria?"

"I know the former Mage General there," Fiora said. "And some others, from the war… I don't know how much they can help us, but it's a safer destination than Lycia at the moment. Tate might be there, too… she's working for Pent's son, after all…"

"What about Aunt Florina?" said Thany. "Is she all right? She's in Caelin, isn't she?"

Fiora and Farina traded a glance. "We haven't heard from her yet, but we also haven't heard that Caelin's been attacked," said Farina. "She'll be all right. She knows Ostia well, too… She's friends with Lady Lyndis and Lord Hector… Ostia's probably Bern's next target."

"And Yuno and her husband?" said Thany. Rose thought she might have heard the nervous tremor in Thany's voice that even Fiora and Farina missed, so she flew as close to Thany as she could, reaching out and squeezing her hand to comfort her. Thany's older sister, Yuno, had left home when Thany and Rose were both very small, but Rose knew how much Thany admired her. Sir Zealot was a kind brother-in-law to Thany, too.

"I think they're helping Lycia."

Thany nodded, but didn't say anything. She smiled at Rose, who took it to mean she was all right, so Rose flew ahead to join her mother and aunt. "I think we should be helping Lycia, too."

"It's too dangerous," said Fiora at once.

"But Lycia didn't do anything to Bern to deserve a war! We should be on their side, not running away!"

"Don't be foolish," said Farina. "They haven't hired us, so we don't fight."

"That's only because we're running away!" Rose said angrily. "Hiding in Etruria while people are dying, it's wrong - "

Suddenly Fiora whipped around and had her pegasus hover in midair, staying as still as possible while still remaining aloft. She glared at her daughter, and Rose had never seen such an expression on her mother's face before; it was not quite anger, but rather desperation or pity. "You think war is about right and wrong? You think it's nothing more than saving innocent lives and defeating the evil and then everything will work out like it should? You've never been in a war, Rose. You don't know the pain you will see. You don't know the problems that you will never be able to solve… This is not a time for your stubbornness. You're too like your father, full of ridiculous ideals of right and wrong, duty and honor… All of it turns to dust in a war like this, and all you can do is survive and hope your loved ones do too. And if they don't, well, you _still_ have to survive. If your sisters run away from home… if the man you love leaves you because he has no choice… if you watch friends die on the battlefield, or even depart with promises to see you again that can never be kept… It's all because of war, in the end. Don't get involved in things that don't concern you, because it'll only end badly."

Now they had all halted in midair to listen, and their pegasi were struggling with the forced stillness; it was not a natural way to fly. Fiora seemed to notice and come to herself. Her tense shoulders loosened a little, and she began to lead their flight again, shooting an apologetic glance at her daughter and sister in particular. Farina looked surprised, sympathetic, and oddly ashamed.

Rose couldn't think of anything to say in response. Her mother's words tore at her heart, but so, too, did the thought of their cowardice. Yes, war was dangerous, war was brutal… But how could they choose not to face such a reality? Even if Rose didn't fight… She always carried a healing staff along with her lance. She had never been trained in magic, but she could work a few of the simplest healing spells just by instinct. She could work in a clinic for the wounded and abandoned, at the very least…

But if she could not bear running away from the war, could she bear running away from her family and her mother? Her mother, whom she loved, who had lost so much…

"Let's dip below the clouds," Aunt Farina called. "Warm up a bit, and make sure we're not being followed… Bern's wyverns can be tricky."

Rose leaned forward and nudged Roland's sides with her heels, and he tilted his wings and headed obligingly back towards the ground. "Thany," she said as they descended, "if I decided to go to Lycia anyway…. would you come with me?"

"But – after what your mother just said?" Thany sounded terrified, but torn. "I know what you mean, but - "

"NO!" came a loud cry from in front of them.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, black-armored knights riding on powerful wyverns had ascended and surrounded them, outnumbering them two to one. Their mounts, unlike the swift and sleek Ilian pegasi, were beasts of pure muscle and sharp claw, and they roared with anticipation of battle. Underneath her, Roland whinnied in fright, but Rose clung to his reins and forced herself to stay calm. Ahead of her, Fiora and Farina already had their lances at the ready.

"You've just been waiting, haven't you?" Farina shouted bravely, and rush of fear and affection for her aunt surged up inside Rose. "Waiting for us to show ourselves? I guess Bern's wyvern knights are too stupid to learn how to track through cloud – you couldn't find us till we revealed ourselves, worthless lizard-riders!"

"You'll learn quick that we're better than you lot, with your pretty prancing ponies," growled the nearest knight, who seemed to be the leader. His voice was rough and hoarse, like hooves against gravel. "Attack to kill! They don't help us, they don't live!"

With a rush of powerful wings, the wyvern knight charged, and everything turned into chaos. Rose's lance was trembling in her grasp, but she landed a few hits, though most bounced off armor or tough hide. Only once did she strike human flesh, hitting man in the slit in his armor where his eyes were, and she was instantly sickened by the rush of blood.

Rose was quite convinced she would have been dead many times over if not for Roland, who dipped and dodged without her having to do much at all, and spears flew over her head, missing her by inches every time her pegasus made a strategic move. Through the fray, Rose caught brief glances of the others; Thany was holding her own against a single knight, whereas Fiora and Farina battled two each, with all the others circling above and below the fight and striking with every opportunity.

An earsplitting scream tore the silence. Fiora had been hit in the shoulder of her lance arm. Her weapon disappeared into the sky below.

"_Mother_!" screamed Rose.

Dodging beneath a wyvern's tearing claws, Rose soared to her mother, but couldn't reach her for the knights intent upon their death. She saw only a brief glimpse of her mother's face, pale as she stared at her daughter, no longer glaring at her opponents but ignoring their triumphant yells. One of them raised his weapon for the finishing blow.

"NO!" someone yelled again.

Careless of their own safety, Farina and Thany both, having escaped their immediate opponents, charged headlong into the group of wyvern knights, their pointed spears and their pegasi's flailing hooves forcing the knights to scatter. In the few seconds' opening, Rose rushed to her mother, who gripped her arm with her good hand.

"Don't argue, Rose," said Fiora though shuddering breaths and colorless lips. "I'm done here. Get away from this battle. Flee to Etruria – please – stay there, stay safe - "

"Don't say that, Mother, don't say that!" cried Rose. She felt tears burning her cheeks; there was a cut on her face, and they settled there and stung. "You'll be all right, you will - "

The enemies were drawing closer. Farina and Thany could not hold them off on their own. Fiora slumped against her pegasus's neck, releasing Rose as she did so, her eyes misty and her injured arm hanging uselessly by her side. Her blood dyed her pegasus's smooth white feathers dark red, the contrast stark and striking.

"Tell him I'm sorry," Fiora said. "Your father… I love you, Rose… please… flee!"

From her left, a wyvern's tail shot out of nowhere, hitting Fiora's pegasus hard in the side, tearing his wings and sending him tumbling through the air. Frozen in place, watching without seeing, Rose saw her mother slip from the saddle and fall with her beloved pegasus, disappearing into the sky between them and the ground, the endless distance.

"Rose! Thany! Move! _Get out of here_!" screamed Farina, somewhere far, far away. Her voice was cracked and desperate. In her shock, Rose could not comprehend anything but following her instructions, and by instinct she moved with speed, tugging Roland around and darting away from the fray. She realized Thany was close at her heels. Blindly they charged towards the ground, and Rose realized that their pursuers were few – some must have stayed with Farina, perhaps a few were dead – there were only three on Thany and Rose's tail.

Trees and rocks and rivers were starting to come into clearer focus now, whereas the clouds and the blood falling like rain from Farina's battle above were fading into distant specks. As Rose descended, she saw no mangled white shape on the ground, they were far from where Fiora had fell…

Wyvern's cries echoed close to her ear. Rose glanced both directions, catching sight of Thany on her left, who looked as shocked and terrified as she felt.

"The trees," Rose said, thinking fast. "Split up and lose them in the trees!"

At once Thany shot to the left, and Rose to the right; riding on a quick and slender pegasus, she was able to dart through a hole in the canopy and dodge tree trunks with ease. Surely they would lose the knights here – they couldn't follow in this dense wood –

But apparently they could. They simply charged through the forest, breaking branches and even whole trees with their bulk. Rose couldn't hear Thany anymore, but it seemed as if only one knight was following Thany, since there were still two on Rose's trail.

She pushed Roland as hard and fast as he would go, and finally, she started to put distance between herself and her pursuers. Twigs and thorns tore at her face and clothes as they dashed through the air, covering her in shallow cuts. Rose didn't stop flying until the chilly morning had, somehow, it what seemed like only minutes, turned into a cold, darkening evening, and Roland was so exhausted that his wings and legs trembled with every push. His shuddering neigh of exhaustion shook Rose out of her cold stupor, and she tapped his sides. They both crashed and stumbled to the ground.

It must have rained at some point during her journey, Rose realized, for she was wet and lying in mud. She didn't know how long they had been flying, only that every part of her ached and stung, blood tasted bitter in her dry mouth, and she was so hungry and tired that she could not think, could hardly breathe…

Roland was not standing, but lying on the muddy ground beside her. He, too, was covered in cuts and shivering in the damp. Instinctively Rose turned to him and huddled close to his side for warmth and comfort, and one of his feathered wings rested over her like a blanket. She laid there like a baby, helpless and immobile, as silence and reality crushed down upon her. Her mother's body fell into nothingness again and again before her eyes. She had lost her mother, and – she realized suddenly with another heart-stopping shock, another crushing weight burying her still deeper into the mud – probably Aunt Farina too, she could not have survived such an outnumbered battle on her own… Thany had disappeared… Perhaps she, too, was caught and dead…

With all the strength she could muster, Rose found her pocket, and miraculously, blessedly, her rose ring was still there. She thought of her mother and clutched it so tight she thought it might be making her palm bleed.

All else Rose could do was cry. In the cold, in the night, the immeasurable mass of her agony and loss squeezed every last bit of energy and hope from her body, which escaped as sobs and tears, until she had nothing left, and she fell asleep, too tired and broken to even feel any longer.

* * *

><p>"Um – hello? Miss? Hey, you all right?"<p>

An unfamiliar face hovered in front of her vision. She squinted, trying to make it out; her mind felt as muddled as the mud she was sleeping on.

"So you are alive!" the mysterious man said. He crouched so he was on an equal level with her. Rose turned her head blearily. He had messy, purple-colored hair crisscrossed with black headbands. His eyes were sharp, but he seemed good-natured; he was certainly smiling kindly at her. Based on his attire, Rose guessed he was a simple traveler, or perhaps a mage; he had no obvious weapons on his person. There was also an odd lilt to his voice. It was warm and full, but also like he was compensating for something, like a nobleman imitating a commoner.

"Who are you?" she managed. Her voice was raspy and cracked, and she coughed.

"Here, have some water," he said, providing his hip flask. Rose took it gratefully. "My name's Hugh. That's a gorgeous pegasus you got there – you from Ilia?"

"We're – we're not in Ilia anymore?"

"Not at all. Welcome to Etruria, miss. What's _your_ name, by the way?"

Rose gulped down more water, then handed him back his flask. As she did so, the ring she had been crushing her in palm slipped to the ground. She stared at it for a few moments, unable to move, to think, to breathe, as the mass of memories flooded back into her waking consciousness.

"This yours?" Hugh said, passing her the ring. "Pretty thing – hey, why're are you crying?"

It wasn't conscious, and it certainly wasn't desirable; Rose hated each and every tear that cascaded over her cheeks. The young man – Hugh, he said his name was – looked absolutely bewildered, almost scared, but also concerned. Awkwardly he patted her on the shoulder, and as she was still lying in the mud, he helped her into a more dignified sitting position. She leaned against Roland's side. Roland turned his magnificent head to nuzzle her ear a little bit, and the familiarity of his touch helped her check her emotions.

"I'm sorry," she said to Hugh. "My name is Rose… I'm from Ilia, but I got… got lost. I was with some others…"

Here, she thought of something, and looked up hopefully; Hugh seemed to know what was on her mind. "I haven't seen anyone else," he said, and her hopes were dashed. "Rose, was it? I, um… if there's anything I can do to help you…"

She shook her head wearily and, clutching Roland's feathered wings for support, hauled herself to her feet. The world swam hazily around her. Hugh leapt to his feet to steady her, and with a swish of wings, Roland was standing again too.

"I… I should go…" Rose began, rubbing her eyes. She found her hands were caked with mud, and looking down at herself, she realized her entire body was coated with muck. Roland's belly was also brown, and Rose was overcome at the sight, especially when she looked closer and realized some of the color was not mud, but dried blood. One of the first and most indispensable of duties for every pegasus knight was to care for their pegasus, and she had failed… She had failed him, and her mother, and her aunt and cousin…

"What do you mean, go? You're not in any fit state to travel. Do you even know where you're going? Or where you are? These woods are endless and dense, after all - "

"Then, why are you in them?"

Hugh looked suddenly shifty.

"I was just passing though. I, um, I'm on my way to – well, I don't know yet, but I'll get there! I know my way around. You, on the other hand, you're lost."

There was no denying that, Rose knew. Desperately she stared around the forest, as if by looking hard enough she could make a clear path appear. Apparently noticing her discomfiture, Hugh look her hand kindly and said, "Travel with me for a while, Rose. Your pegasus looks much too exhausted to fly, and I'm not the type to let a pretty lady wander off alone, you know?"

Somewhere beneath her numb shock and terrible grief, Rose felt the compliment, but she did not have the strength to feel flattered or even a little embarrassed by it.

"Maybe… on the way… whenever you're ready, you can share your story with me," Hugh said cautiously.

Rose nodded. More bits and pieces of the past day were starting to come back, and every time a shard merged into the whole, it grew a little more biting, a little more painful. But she could not stop herself from remembering. Somewhere within the bitter pain was some important knowledge, her goal, and it was just right there, on the edge of her consciousness… Her eyes fell on her beloved pegasus, looking worn and dirty. Poor Roland, suffering because of her incompetence. Roland…

_Lycia. _

"Lycia!" she shouted out loud.

"Lycia?"

"Lycia," Rose repeated. "That's – that's where I was going. No, where I wanted to go, but my mother…"

She stopped. Thinking about her mother was painful.

"There's a war between Bern and Lycia right now," said Hugh, breaking the uncomfortable silence, pulling her away from her raw grief. "Against Bern. It would be dangerous, bordering on suicidal, to try and travel there."

All of a sudden, her resolve hardened; she set her jaw firmly and straightened her shoulders, crossing her arms across her chest like she had so often seen Aunt Farina do when she was determined to get her way. Thany would imitate her as she grew up, but Fiora would simply laugh. Rose's life with them seemed a million years away now. All that mattered was her goal, and as Hugh was the only person beside her at the moment, she knew she needed his help to achieve it.

"Well, I'm going to Lycia," she said firmly. Lovingly she patted Roland's nose and began to clean his feathers with a corner of her dress. "Hugh, you told me you wouldn't let me go off alone. You don't seem to have anywhere else in mind – so why don't you come with me?"

"Go – with you? To Lycia?"

Rose nodded shortly. After a moment of stunned silence, Hugh blinked, then quickly donned a cool and confident expression that made her feel equally like laughing and hitting him.

"Well, if I recall, I said I wouldn't let a _pretty_ lady wander off alone. Who's to say I think you qualify?"

Her desire to hit him won out. Rose punched him in the shoulder – rather harder than he was expecting, clearly, for she knocked him quite off-balance. Roland, too, gave an angry whinny in Hugh's direction. Shooting his hands up in quick surrender, Hugh grinned.

"I'm joking, I'm joking – don't bite me!" He glared at the irritated pegasus. When Roland calmed down enough, Hugh patted him hesitantly on the nose. "See. We're all friends again. All right, Rose. I'll go with you… but don't you be thinking this will be easy."

"Never," she said with a resolute nod. "Nothing's easy anymore."


End file.
